Last week I had a very bad week. It felt like a lightening bolt had struck down from above and stunned me into a negative, off kilter, zombie like state of functioning. I had no desire to do much of anything. I emotionally worked myself up to being physically ill. Sick to my stomach and in tears….leading me to have to leave work. Leave work with wide eyed stares of colleagues wondering what the hell was going on with our “happy-go-lucky, energetic, workhorse Kate.” I isolated and became a person many people in my current life do not recognize. The thing is I recognized her. I have been her (THAT version of Kate) before. I somehow had regressed back into this state of being.
I had regressed from thriving all the way back to victim.
I have the education and copious amounts of reading background to intellectually understand healing is not linear. I know what triggers are and what they can do for others. The hard part of moving on from a sexual assault, personal trauma, relationship hurt, professional heartbreak, depression, anxiety, PTSD, and two eating disorders during my teenage years is that I have not figured out my own personal triggers. My personal mentality is that moving on is fragmented into different levels. Set to the same parameters my Nike RUn app is, first you are at the green level, then you graduate onto blue once you have accomplished 700 miles, then you hit the milestone of purple when you hit 1000 miles, and so forth.
So it would appear that I have set my own set of rules to apply only to myself similar as I have with physical fitness goals. Well knowing its unattainable, knowing healing is not linear, knowing its unreasonable, but making myself go through it anyways. A bit of regression into perfectionism…shit.
I have spoken in pieces of having moved on from two eating disorders I struggled with starting as early as junior high. I self taught myself to withhold food as a method of control and staying “skinny.” Once my hormones and heartbreak of high school set in, I learned how to eat an enormous amount of food, stick my finger down my throat, and purge everything inside of me. It felt great, cathartic, and cleansing. I was thin, popular, in great athletic shape, and in a false “sense of control.” Then it started to become apparent and I developed shame over my control tactics. I have not purged since my early 20s or regressed into anorexic like behavior since I was assaulted in Fall 2015. (I refused to eat for the most part, I just …well..I just couldn’t…)
My reason for sharing all of this is that I realized last week I haven’t figured out my triggers, but I have figured out my own personal “tells.” I can’t manage triggers or how they make me feel, but I can manage my coping skills much more efficiently. I skipped meals and felt proud of it last week. I stared at a piece of food and wondered if I would absorb any calories if I devoured it and purged for the first time in over a decade. I chose chardonnay over protein shakes and longer planned runs. I lashed out at others, my stomach hurt, I slept too much, and then too little.
I knew what was happening and fought with myself internally about it. My mind trickled back to my best friend staring at me in our high school bathroom asking me “Why do your teeth look yellow again? Please be honest!” (She was one of the few that knew about the bulimia.) I looked in the mirror at my 32 year old smile, down at the whitening trays stored in my vanity and briefly flashed back to my 17 year old self scrubbing my teeth with baking soda and peroxide in the mirror. I do not want to go back here, I don’t have time to go back through the exhaustion of this. I regressed, but I found a way to talk myself out it. I went for a walk with the dog instead, and went to bed early (with something to help me sleep because I knew I needed too.)
My own word definition for 2017 is growth. Just as I am working to redefine forgiveness and where it fits in my life; I have to understand growth may have to be a fluid definition. Anytime I have a setback, I need to acknowledge it versus chalking it up to utter failure. Chunks of miles are measurable, unwinding of emotional damage are not. It’s not a marathon I get to finish and sign off as “check” completed. All of my past happenings are components of who I am today. For the first time in years, I have admitted to a part of myself I blocked out. My attack and assault at 31 was not my first. There is 20 year old inside of me that has also been stunted. Isolated until the next trigger comes forward.
My healing growth is going to have to be a roller coaster, one day at time, and working through the destructive coping skills I have. I regressed and felt useless to helping myself and others. This is not growth thinking. It’s hurtful.
I am far from the growth I wish to have (in all areas of life), but admitting my imperfections, thoughts, areas, of weakness, are the first steps. Crawling, walking, and running have to be interchangeable depending on the day, and that is OKAY!
May be the R in growth is also interchangeable between regression and renewal…its a thought.